


The Garden

by NikitaSunshine



Category: Homeland
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-12
Updated: 2017-05-12
Packaged: 2018-10-30 21:12:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10885038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NikitaSunshine/pseuds/NikitaSunshine
Summary: How did Quinn and Franny meet, and when did he take a shower?It starts dark, but I promise, it gets cheesy fast.





	The Garden

Quinn finds himself on the bathroom floor of the basement, a shard of glass in his hand. He knows what's going on. He lost his thoughts, lost track of time. Maybe he had another seizure, but most likely he (what's the word?) dissociated. It's happened before. Many times when he was in lock up. Sometimes it's what got him there in the first place.

 

But why did this happen now? He starts to remember this morning and the day before. Throwing his mug at the window. It's still his reflex to launch things when angry or confused. Leaving broken glass on the floor. It must be where the piece in his hand came from.

 

Having a seizure in the bodega. Feeling feeble and ashamed, angry at himself for letting this happen. Max, babysitting him like a child. 

 

Watching the video with Carrie. Seeing the nightmare of his death on a tiny screen, as if to diminish its importance. There on YouTube for everyone to see, probably viewed more times than your typical porn scene. 

 

Exasperation in Carrie followed by pain. Questioning why she saved him, making her cry. Left alone with his thoughts as she gets up and walks out.

 

He could barely sleep that night, and when he did, the nightmares came back stronger than ever. Running so fast and fighting so hard in his dreams, but when he wakes, he struggles just to get out of bed, his body broken and tired, his brain hurting.

 

This morning, when she hugged him, he thought it might be the first time in years someone had touched him with something other than pity, without an ulterior motive. But he misread and was rejected, and rightfully so. He's filthy, crippled, his brain is fucked up, he isn't the same person. Why would she want him now when she didn't before?

 

And so now he finds himself on the bathroom floor, a shard of glass in his good hand, his left forearm exposed. There are old scars there; he wears long sleeve shirts to cover them. Also scars on his legs, where they are easy to hide as well. The pain helps to ground him when he feels his mind playing tricks on him, or when he feels as if his body is slipping away, as if he will forget who he is or that he exists. It's a horrifying feeling, similar to the one in the chamber in Berlin.

 

It would be so simple to end it all now. What's holding him back? He could do it here in the bathroom, in the shower. It would be easy to wash everything down the drain. He wouldn't be a burden anymore. Carrie could rent out her basement to someone who could actually pay. She'd probably be glad to be rid of him, considering the way she looks at him. One fewer task in her busy new life.

 

Out of nowhere, he hears a noise from the other side of the bathroom window, breaking him out of his pity party. A screen door bangs. An uneven pitter patter coming down the steps right outside. A girl's voice talking to herself. Maybe to someone else, but there doesn't seem to be anyone else there. He struggles to hear. He can't make out the words, but it seems to be a singsong voice of comfort.

 

Then, an "uh oh," and a clatter.  The voice talking to herself again. "You got this," followed by the sound of struggling.

 

He stands up and looks outside the window. He sees a red-headed girl that, with his superior intellect, he surmises must be Franny. She's standing unsteadily on a low brick wall surrounding a flower bed, reaching up to the branches of a tree for something that he cannot see. It's not a long way down, but there are hazards below. Without thinking, he rushes outside as quickly as he is able and catches her, just as she starts to fall back on the flagstone-covered ground. She's so light, he only needs one arm.

 

She looks up into his eyes. At first, shocked and scared, then slightly annoyed.

 

"You smell."

 

"That's what they say."

 

"I would've been ok." A little snarky.

 

"Probably so."

 

He sets her down, and she gets back to work. Something having to do with a shovel and a small cup with holes on the top, red and black bugs painted on the side.

 

He turns around to leave.

 

"You're the man in the basement."

 

"Yes."

 

"You play really loud noises on the radio."

 

"Sorry. It makes the voices in my," gestures to head, "quiet."

 

"Huh?"

 

"Noth- forget it."

 

She continue to stare. "My name's Franny."

 

"I'm Peter."

 

"I already knowed that."

 

"Oh."

 

He turns and starts to leave again.

 

"Wait!" Her voice softens. "Will you stay with me, Peter?"

 

He considers for a minute. "No more climbing?"

 

Sighs. "Ok."

 

He watches as she continues to dig, intent on her task. He still isn't sure what her goal is, but she's very focused, and this mission is obviously important to her. As she stops to admire her work, a breeze blows, and there's a rustling. She stands up, remembering.

 

"My balloon!"  
 

He shifts his gaze to the tree above and spots it. A purple balloon about to fly away, hanging on by a thread. He reaches up and grabs it just in time, before the gust of wind makes it disappear for good.

 

He tries to give it back to her. "Here."

 

She stares down at her hands, covered in dirt. "Can you hold it for me?"

 

He looks more closely at the balloon. Unicorn on one side. Rainbow on the other. This is kind of ridiculous, but... "Got nowhere else to go."

 

She sets back into her work.

 

"Where'd you get the...?" Gestures with his head.

 

"Balloon?"

 

"Yes. Thank you."

 

"That's ok. I forget my words sometimes too... Riley had a birthday party at school today. We all got one."

 

He decides to try to continue the conversation. It's the longest he's talked to anyone without throwing objects or cursing loudly in a while. "How old is he?"

 

"Riley's a girl, silly."

 

"Of course. She."

 

"She's 5. Just like me, but I'm older. My birthday was in the spring. Before we came here."

 

He nods knowingly. "So, what are you doing?"

 

"Digging a hole."

 

"I see that. Why?"

 

"Because it's fun." She brushes some dirt off the wall. "Sit down," she orders.

 

He takes a seat next to her, still holding the balloon. "What's in the... cup?"

 

She holds it up really close to his face, as if he could smell the answer. "Ladybugs!"

 

"Ah. What are you doing with them?"

 

"There's bad bugs on these plants. The ladybugs are going to kill them. They're, um, apids?"

 

"Aphids."

 

She looks up. "How do you know that and not balloon?"

 

"No idea. Good question."

 

"Mommy and I bought the ladybugs at the plant store. They kill the apids."

 

He considers this. "Carrie knows aphids."

 

"She knows all kinds of things about plants and bugs."

 

"I didn't know that." He really didn't.

 

"She likes being in the garden, mostly when she's sad."

 

He studies her. She suddenly seems a little smaller.

 

Franny sets the cup on the ledge, and he glances inside. There are hundreds of ladybugs crawling over themselves, a swirling red and black mass.

 

"Jesus, how many are there?", he thinks out loud.

 

"About a million, maybe even a thousand!" She looks at him with big blue eyes. He makes big eyes back. 

 

Franny starts to dig again. "I had a nightmare once about apids. They were crawling all over me, trying to kill me." She shakes at the thought. "I screamed and woke up Mommy."

 

Without really thinking, he shares, "I have nightmares, too."

 

"I know. I heard you."

 

"Oh. Sorry."

 

"You know they're just dreams right, they can't hurt you."

 

"Yeah. I do."

 

An idea comes to her. She stops shoveling. "Do you get scared of the shower?"

 

How the fuck did she figure that out? "Yes, I do."

 

"Is that why you're smelly? It's the hole on the bottom, right?" She adds, conspiratorially, "It wants to eat me, too."

 

"Could be."

 

"My mommy tells me it won't hurt kids, but to cover it with a towel or a toy or something. That way it won't suck me in."

 

"Your mom is..." He gestures to his head, forgetting the word.

 

"Pretty?"

 

"Well, um, yeah."

 

She squints at him. "Your eyes are very blue."

 

He squints back. "Your hair is very red."

 

She sets the shovel to the side, looking proud, done with digging her hole. Then she stands up suddenly, knocking the cup over, and dozens of ladybugs immediately start to scatter.

 

"Oh, no!"

 

She sets the cup upright and tries to grab the lid, but just knocks the cup over again, sending more ladybugs into the air. She looks as if she's going to cry. "No, no, not yet! Come back!"

 

He reaches down to help, and the balloon slips out of his hand. "Shit."

 

She covers her mouth with her hand. "Peter!"

 

He acts quickly, grabs the balloon before it flies out of reach. He brings the string to the flagstone concrete, stomps on it with his good foot to keep it in place. Then he turns the cup upright and covers the opening with his now free hand.

 

"Grab the uh..." Gestures to the lid.

 

"The top!" Her hands shaking, she grabs the lid and holds it over his hand, standing really close. Looking up at him.

 

"On my three," he says. "One, two, three!" He starts to lift his hand, but she doesn't make a move, just stares back at him. 

 

"Franny, the..."

 

"Oh!" He moves his hand and she tries to slam the lid on top. 

 

"Slower."

 

It takes her several tries before she gets it right. He picks up the cup and they peek in through the window on the side. Her right hand is on his left arm now, steadying herself. "There's some still safe in there."

 

Franny looks up at him, relieved. She starts to laugh, and he smiles back.

 

"That was cl-". Forgets the word again.

 

"Crazy!"

 

"Yeah."

 

She stares at his chest. "Peter, you're covered with ladybugs!"

 

He looks down at his old gray shirt. Dozens of tiny ladybugs are dancing on his clothes. Franny starts to shoo them off. "No," he says, "I kind of like it."

 

She reaches out to touch his hair. "They're all in your hair too, Peter."

 

"Think they'll get the aphids?"

 

"Silly. Apids don't eat hair."

 

"Good thing."

 

The screen door opens and they turn their attention upwards. Carrie. She gives them a questioning stare. "Hey, you two!"

 

"Hi, Mommy!" Franny's hopping up and down excitedly. "Look, Peter's here, and he saved the ladybugs, and my balloon!"

 

Carrie smiles, maybe even laughs. It sounds nice.

 

He realizes how he must look. Covered with so many red and black creatures that she can probably see them from upstairs. A small cup in his hand. His foot clamped down on a purple unicorn balloon. 

 

He smiles back, maybe he even laughs, too.

 

"Snack time, Franny. Come in and wash your hands."

 

"Can Peter come too?"

 

She hesitates before answering. "Sure, if he'd like." She heads inside as the screen door swings shut behind her.

 

Franny looks up at him. "Will you come? Please?"

 

He thinks for a minute. "I need to shower. Get the bugs out."

 

"And, you're stinky." She suddenly looks concerned. "Are you going to be ok?"

 

"Yeah, I think so... Yes."

 

"I'll save you a piece of my cookie."

 

"I don't get my own?"

 

She considers, pouts. "Maybe next time, ok? Sorry."

 

"Next time." She starts to run upstairs. "Franny!" She turns. "Your balloon."

 

She hurries back, reaches down as he lifts his foot. He stumbles a little.

 

She gives him a big smile. "Thank you. See you upstairs for snack time!"

 

He thinks. Maybe there is another way. "Anything for you, Franny."


End file.
